


201. saints

by piggy09



Series: The Sestre Daily Drabble Project [234]
Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Gen, Missing Scene, i will stop making drabbles about it when i am DEAD! IN THE GROUND!, look. i KNOW. but this scene changed my life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 13:15:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9822125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piggy09/pseuds/piggy09
Summary: Sarah in Rachel’s shower is too bright to look at directly, like a sun, like the old paintings in churches where the best people are haloed in gold.





	

Sarah in Rachel’s shower is too bright to look at directly, like a sun, like the old paintings in churches where the best people are haloed in gold. There is blood trickling down her neck; she’s shaking. If she asked Helena to right now Helena would kneel. She would do it. It would be just like praying, only better.

Sarah doesn’t ask her to do anything except the one whisper-rasp of _Helena can you cut me down, please, can you—_ before she starts crying again. Helena does it. Sarah stumbles, Helena catches her, Helena loves her, Helena lets her go. Sarah stands up on her own.

“Water,” she says, “please,” and then she wobbles and sinks to the ground. Her head folds down. The blood on her neck is the worst thing in the world. Helena thought she’d hated things before this, but she hadn’t – this is what hate feels like. She would break every one of that man’s bones if it could undo this. All the other deaths had been like unplugging something from a wall, but this – this. Anger in Helena’s hand like a knifeblade.

She leaves Sarah in the shower and wanders towards Rachel-Duncan’s kitchen. On the ground, the body. Helena kicks it in the ribs as she steps over it; it rolls over onto its back, all sightless eyes. Helena drags her fingers over the wall. Helena leaves blood _everywhere_ , streaks and drips of it. If there’s enough blood maybe the blood on Sarah won’t look so terrible. If there’s enough blood maybe it’ll fix things. That’s the only way Helena knows _how_ to fix things. She never knows how to make there be less blood. Only more.

When she comes back with a bloody water glass Sarah is standing in front of the mirror. Stupid Helena: she didn’t blot out the mirror. Sarah can see herself.

Helena holds out the water glass and Sarah doesn’t take it. So. Helena puts it down, stands next to her, feels like a terrible ghost. This isn’t a story about ghosts, because Helena lived; maybe that’s why she feels so out of place.

“We should go,” Sarah says, but she doesn’t move, and she doesn’t drink the water. She wiped most of the blood off from her neck when Helena wasn’t looking. Helena doesn’t know why that makes her sad, but it does.

“Yes,” she says, because what else does she say.

“I can’t,” Sarah says.

“I know.”

“I’m sorry about the rebar,” Sarah says, not looking at Helena – only her own eyes in the mirror.

Helena blinks. She wasn’t expecting an apology, wouldn’t have let herself, but if she had expected an apology (which she hadn’t) it wouldn’t have been that one. “I healed,” she says. She can hear the confusion in her voice, each letter twisting into a question mark.

“But it hurt,” Sarah says, and Helena gets it.

“I healed,” she says again. “It stopped hurting, Sarah. I promise.”

“Did it scar,” Sarah says. She’s leaned forward slightly, and her hands are white on the countertop. She is holding on so tight Helena wouldn’t be surprised if the counter cracked.

Helena risks it. “It won’t,” she says. “It is shallow, Sarah. It won’t scar.”

“Wasn’t asking about that,” Sarah lies. “Just wanted to know. So I could say sorry.”

“Sarah,” Helena whispers. “I think we should go.”

Sarah makes a choked sound and leans forward; her hair falls over her face. Some of it is still matted with blood. Some of this blood is Sarah’s, and some of it is Helena’s death’s blood. No matter what Helena did she wouldn’t be able to tell them apart.

She reaches out – slow – and touches Sarah’s arm. Sarah lets out a shuddering breath between her teeth and does not move. Helena moves her hand up, and then moves it down, the way she’s seen people do in movies. It’s supposed to help, she thinks. It’s supposed to be a way to fix things without blood.

When Sarah tilts her head to look at Helena she’s crying again. Or maybe she never stopped; maybe it just went quieter. “Helena,” she says.

“Sarah,” Helena says. Sarah’s name falls out of her mouth the same way her name had fallen out of Sarah’s: holy.

“Can you help me,” Sarah says. “I don’t think I can make it on my own.”

“Yes,” Helena says, and Sarah nods at her. She looks at the countertop and then, slowly, she lets it go. She lied, but it was a good lie: Sarah is a little wobbly on her feet, but she manages to stand there entirely on her own.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please kudos + comment if you enjoyed! :)


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